


hearts, stars, and snowflakes

by missmichellebelle



Series: this is how flowers bloom [2]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Babysitters, Alternate Universe - Children, Babysitter!Victor, Babysitting, Baking, Christmas, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Traditions, childhood crushes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2019-02-24 06:26:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13207893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missmichellebelle/pseuds/missmichellebelle
Summary: Victor hasn’t made cookies with his grandmama in a decade, but helping Yuuri in his own Christmas cookie tradition pulls at the same heartstrings.





	hearts, stars, and snowflakes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kiaronna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiaronna/gifts).



> I asked for Christmas prompts over on tumblr to fill while I was baking a cake for Christmas, and, sticking with the theme, Seri prompted me **Christmas cookies**.
> 
> I wrote the beginning of three other fics before I decided to write something in this verse. c:
> 
> last fic of the year! glad I could squeeze this one in.
> 
> hope you all had a lovely holiday. <3
> 
> (set nine months after pillow forts & princes)

“So what kind of cookies are we making?” Victor asks as he follows Yuuri into the kitchen. “The chocolate chip kind you scoop out of a tub? Oh! Or maybe those ones with the reindeer printed on them that you just put on a baking sheet?” His voice tips up, marginally hopeful. In the near-nine months that Victor has been (for lack of a better word) babysitting Yuuri, they’ve never done anything like  _ this _ . Sure, Yuuri has attempted to teach Victor how to assemble a bento, and they’ve made meals together on several occasions, but mostly they build forts ad watch movies and play board games. They don’t  _ bake _ .

Probably because Victor is horrible at it.

The look Yuuri gives him over his shoulder is far more scathing and judgemental than anything a 12-year-old should be able to cook up. But then again, Yuuri isn’t 12 anymore—he’s been 13 for a few weeks now. It seems a little more practical for a 13-year-old (although babysitting a teenager feels anything  _ but _ ).

“We’re making Christmas cookies,” is how Yuuri chooses to answer, and—if the bag of flour and the large stand mixer sitting on the counter is any indication—Victor surmises there is nothing prepackaged about it.  

“Oh, for… Santa?” Victor asks, cautiously. Sure, Yuuri is a little  _ old _ to believe in Santa, but Victor certainly isn’t going to be the person that destroys that innocence.

Yuuri looks at him with furrowed eyebrows.

“No?” He frowns. “I don’t… Believe in Santa anymore,” he continues, just as cautiously, as if he’s letting Victor down in some way by admitting this. He bites his lip and gives a little shrug, the way he tends to when he’s feeling shy about something. “They’re for Mari.”

_ Ah _ . “That’s right. She comes home in a few days, doesn’t she?”

Yuuri ducks his head, humming in affirmation as he turns away. He makes for the kitchen counter and the floral printed book tucked neatly against the backsplash, where it’s sandwiched between  _ The Joy of Cooking _ and  _ The Food Lab _ . As Yuuri flips it open, Victor quickly realizes that it’s some kind of family recipe book. The plastic sleeve pages are host to what look like unlined index cards, some covered in neatly written Japanese characters while others sport blocky English print.

“And what kind of cookies are we making her?”

Yuuri finally comes to a stop on a recipe that is, thankfully, in English, and holds up the recipe book for Victor to see.

“Shortbread.”

Victor squints at the ingredient list. There’s what appear to be notes written in Japanese along the side—measurement adjustments maybe?—but other than that it’s just butter, sugar, vanilla, and flour. It doesn’t look all that hard.

“All right! So I’ll…” Victor’s eyes skim down the recipe. “Set the oven to 350 degrees?”

Yuuri beams at him.

*

It turns out that even with just four ingredients (which are actually  _ seven _ ingredients, according to Yuuri), Victor is still not all that great at baking. Yuuri finds it incredibly amusing.

“Well we can’t all be as talented at baking as you,” he says as he measures out cornstarch—one of the mystery ingredients—as per Yuuri’s instruction.

“I’m not,” Yuuri insists as he watches Victor carefully. “I’m just good at following directions.”

“Are you saying I’m not?” Victor teases, a grin coming to his face as he adds his three-quarters of a cup to the bowl.

“Mix it just enough to combine them,” Yuuri directs sagely, but otherwise doesn’t comment, and Victor chuckles quietly.

When the dry ingredients are carefully mixed in to the butter, vanilla, and three types of sugar, Victor helps Yuuri roll the dough into a ball and then cover it in cling wrap so that it can chill in the fridge (which, according to Yuuri, is very important).

“I didn’t know it could be this complicated to make cookies,” Victor says as he helps Yuuri clean up their mess.

Yuuri gives him a strange smile.

“Really?” He asks, eyes bright with curiosity. “What kind of cookies do you make?”

Victor leans in closely, as if sharing a secret. “The kind they sell at the store,” he confides. “Do you really think I could bake anything much harder than  _ this _ ?” Not that he’s ever really tried, per se. Baking cookies wasn’t really something he and his mama did when he was growing up. Which isn’t to say they  _ never _ made cookies, just that being a horrible baker seems to be a family trait—one Victor very obviously inherited from his mama. Oh they tried a few times, but their attempts usually concluded in a messy kitchen and something completely inedible, rounded off with a package of Oreos shared over cold glasses of milk.

They’re some of the dearest memories Victor has.

The only time Victor can even remember successfully baking something was…

“Well,” he says after a moment, voice thoughtful as he watches water rinse the remnants of their cookie dough down the drain. “When I was little, before my grandmama passed away, she would come over and we’d make  _ pryaniki _ .”

“Pry-what?” Yuuri hedges, voice quiet, and Victor chuckles softly.

“ _ Pryaniki _ . It’s… A little like gingerbread?” He wrinkles his nose. “I think it tastes more like a doughnut. And my grandmama’s wasn’t spicy the way normal gingerbread is, but I’m not sure she  _ put _ any spices in hers…”

“You don’t remember?”

“Not really.” Victor smiles at him softly. “It was a long time ago, now. I was only six when she died.” He rinses the last spoon clean and hands it to Yuuri. He takes it, but Victor notices that he’s paying more attention to Victor than he is to their dishes. “I remember they had some kind of glaze on them—it was sweet. And… They tasted like honey.” If he thinks about it long enough, he can almost remember the way they would crumble apart in his mouth. “We’d make them every Christmas, me and her. Although she always called them birthday cookies, for me.”

The kitchen is quiet for a few moments, just the gentle whir of the oven and the heavy press of Victor’s childhood memories.

“Do you miss her?” Yuuri asks, once again focused on his task of drying the spoon.

“Sometimes,” Victor admits, and then claps his hands together, grinning. “But enough about my tragic childhood! When can we bake the cookies?”

It has the desired effect—Yuuri laughs, and all trace of worry over Victor and whatever sadness he’s accumulated in his short lifetime evaporates. Sometimes, Yuuri is too grown up for his own good.

“The longer they’re in the fridge, the better,” Yuuri advises, and Victor wonders how many times he’s made these shortbread cookies. Are they something one of his own grandmother’s introduced? A family recipe his mom came up with? A tradition he usually saves for Mari?

Victor hasn’t made cookies with his grandmama in a decade, but helping Yuuri in his own Christmas cookie tradition pulls at the same heartstrings.

“But…” Yuuri is shy again, the kind of shyness that usually hides his actual enthusiasm. He reaches out and gently takes Victor’s hand, which surprises the smile right off Victor’s face. Maybe Yuuri’s concern hadn’t evaporated as much as he thought, and Victor feels a rush of fondness. “You can help me pick out cookie cutters while we wait.”

“Cookie cutters? You didn’t mention cookie cutters before,” Victor chides playfully. “What kind of shapes do you have?” He pauses. “Which one is your favorite?” A much more important question.

Yuuri doesn’t answer immediately, waiting instead for Victor to help him get the container down from one of the higher shelves before they meticulating lay out every cutter on the Katsuki’s kitchen table.

“The star,” he says, reaching for the corresponding shape and pulling it closer, “is Mari’s favorite.” He has to get out of his seat to reach his next shape, and Victor is only a little surprised when he selects the large snowflake all the way across the table. “But I like this one the best.”  He’s not sure what he expected—the snowman, maybe, or the reindeer, or maybe even something not so festive, like the dinosaur or the dog.

But Yuuri lines the snowflake up carefully next to the star, with the sort of reverence that hints at a deeper meaning, and then looks so suddenly and so expectantly at Victor that it nearly startles him.

(Nearly).

He’s clearly waiting for something to happen, but Victor just smiles and stares back patiently.

When what must have been a good attempt at telepathy fails, Yuuri gives a small push at one of the cookie cutters still clumped in the center.

“You pick some, too,” he states.

“Oh?” Victor presses a hand to his chest, playing at surprise. “I have a say?”

Yuuri’s eyebrows pinch together in that much-too-adult way of theirs.

“Of course,” he says, clearly not picking up on the fact that Victor is just teasing him. “They’re your Christmas cookies, too.”

Victor drops his eyes, making to seriously consider the cookie cutters spread out before him, and presses his lips together. His Christmas cookies, too.

“It’s not very festive, but…” Victor picks up one of the metal shapes. “I like the heart.”

*

Picking out the cookie cutters is fun, and sorting through the Katsuki’s alarming amount of brightly colored sugar sprinkles is even better. Victor and Yuuri might never bake together, but it’s clear that Yuuri must do a lot more of it than he ever realized.

When Yuuri declares the dough is cold enough, they work together to roll it out (a process that is  _ much more difficult _ than Victor had been expecting). Even the act of cutting out the cookies is work, mostly because they keep having to reball the dough and roll it out again, sometimes throwing it into the freezer to make sure it doesn’t get too warm.

(When Victor had asked why the dough had to be so cold, Yuuri had said something about the shape of the cookie and the butter being cold and the cornstarch would help, but it was far more scientific than Victor had been expecting. Who knew baking could be so complex?)

By the time they’re putting the last tray into the oven to bake, Victor’s arms are sore and his hands are sticky, but him and Yuuri are both grinning and the entire house smells like sugar and butter.

“Oh no! Yuuri!” Victor surveys their army of cookies, spread out amongst an alarming number of baking racks. They’re a beautiful, buttery white color, but— “We forgot to put the sprinkles on!” Sprinkles go on before baking, right? How could they have forgotten such an important, festive step?

Yuuri looks at the cookies, and then back to Victor. Surely, Victor has ruined this baking experience and, thus, Yuuri’s Christmas tradition. He  _ did _ tell Yuuri he wasn’t good at baking, and now he’s proved it. What are Christmas cookies without sprinkles?

Now Yuuri is going to be  _ upset _ . What if… What if he even holds a grudge against Victor for messing this up?  _ Forever _ ? That’s just the sort of thing an upset, newly-turned teenager would do! Victor would know—it hasn’t been that long since his volatile, 13-year-old days.

“No we didn’t,” Yuuri states plainly, and Victor’s panic halts in its tracks. “You put the sprinkles on after.”

“...you put the sprinkles on  _ after? _ ” Victor is learning an awful lot about baking. Maybe if Yuuri had taught him how to bake, he wouldn’t be so hopeless at it. “How do you keep them from falling off?”

“They stick to the icing.”

“Icing?” What icing? They certainly didn’t make any sort of icing, and Victor finds himself hoping that Yuuri means some sort of prepackaged, Betty Crocker magic.

But instead of producing something premade, Yuuri pulls the vanilla from the pantry.

“The kind we have to make while the cookies are cooling.”

There are no shortcuts when it comes to baking with Yuuri it seems, although Victor finds he doesn’t mind all that much. His clothes have patches of faded flour that had been well-meaningly (but uselessly) wiped at with a paper towel, and they’ve been in the kitchen for  _ hours _ . But… It’s been fun.

If the Katsukis keep Victor on, maybe he can convince Yuuri to bake with him again.

And if they don’t, well, there’s no reason that should stop them.

As they whisk powdered sugar with the vanilla and a bit of milk, Victor thinks of his grandmama’s cookies again. They’d had some sort of glaze-icing, too. He wonders if that’s just a Christmas cookie thing.

*

Finally, when the icing is made and the dishes are clean and the cookies are cooled, they decorate. The baking racks are laid out over a tablecloth of parchment paper so they don’t have to worry about making a mess, and Yuuri dutifully shows Victor how to dip the shortbread cookies into the glaze and then add the sprinkles before it hardens.

“The best part of making cookies is decorating them,” Victor says as he dips one of his hearts halfway into the icing and then coats it in red sprinkles.

“I like eating them,” Yuuri says, and then ducks his head a bit. He’s dipped the front of a star in icing and is creating careful lines of gold sugar along the edge by using a spoon. It makes Victor feel like a finger-painting kindergartener next to a real artist, but in the best sort of way.

“Okay, fine, you got me there. But decorating is the  _ second _ best part.” Victor dips a tree into the icing and then covers the entire thing in green sprinkles. He tries Yuuri’s spoon trick to add ornaments, but ends up just making a very confused, very colorful pine tree.

Yuuri is still dutifully working on his star.

In fact, in the time Victor has decorated ten cookies, Yuuri has only done three, but each one is meticulously and beautifully decorated.

“You’re really good at this, you know,” Victor says after a moment, voice low, and Yuuri’s hand jerks—they both go still, but Yuuri doesn’t sprinkle any excess sugar on his cookie.

Victor exhales.

“At what?” Yuuri asks, ducking his head down further rather than looking up.

“ _ This _ . Baking. Decorating. Have you  _ looked _ at my cookies? I’m ashamed to even call them Christmas cookies next to yours.” He means it as a compliment, but when Yuuri’s head jerks up, the look on his face is indignant.

“Your cookies are just as beautiful as mine,” he insists fiercely. “And you’re not bad at baking either!”

Victor smiles, because neither of those things are remotely true. His cookies aren’t hideous, but they aren’t works of art, either. When they’d been making the dough, he hadn’t leveled the sugar at first, and how was he supposed to know that people actually sifted flour? He thought that was one of those made up things people did, like reading the terms and conditions for things.

“Thank you, Yuuri,” he replies, warmly, because he knows that even if Yuuri’s compliments aren’t true to Victor, they’re true to Yuuri, and they’re meant sincerely.

And they’re also directing Victor’s compliments to Yuuri away from himself.

“But I meant what I said.” Victor casually turns his attention back to the cookies, picking up a snowman. He’s not nimble enough to make it look like an actual snowman, but it’ll still look pretty—and taste just as good—if he sprinkles white sugar over the icing. “You have a gift.”

“You haven’t even eaten one yet…” Yuuri protests in a mumble, once more bent over his decorating. He’s started working on his own snowman, and Victor can’t wait to see how it turns out.

“You’re right!” Victor picks up the heart he decorated only a few minutes early, and audibly takes a bite of it. Yuuri looks up again, eyes wide behind his glasses. “Wow!” Victor says, and then blinks, because  _ seriously wow _ . He helped make these, how are they so  _ good? _ “ _ Wow _ ,” he says again, taking another bite, and then just shoving the entire rest of the cookie into his mouth without preamble.

He would have done it anyway, but it’s worth it for the pleased smile Yuuri tries to hide by looking down at the table.

“See? Now you  _ have _ to believe me,” Victor declares, pleased, no doubt with remnants of red sprinkles sticking to his lips. Yuuri bites his lip, not confirming anything—but not denying it, either.

*

When they’re all said and done and the sprinkles are tucked back into the pantry, and the cookie cutters have been cleaned and dried and stored away until their next baking adventure, Victor is exhausted. It’s certainly past dinner time, and while Victor feels bad just ordering them a pizza, Yuuri seems content with it.

“Pizza and cookies,” he laments. “Your mom will never let me come over again.”

Yuuri simply rolls his eyes in response and assures him  _ it’s fine _ .

The cookies end up on a large white platter, dotted with silver foil snowflakes, that even has a special glass cover to keep them fresh.

He wonders if the Katsukis take Christmas cookies  _ that _ seriously, or if maybe it’s just Yuuri. And maybe his parents support it enough that he has all the cookie cutters and sprinkles and  _ special platters _ a 13-year-old could hope for.

Victor smiles. He hopes it the second one. In fact, he saw some cute cookie cutters at the mall the other day. He might have to go and pick them up.

They eat pizza on the couch in their pajamas (“we shouldn’t tell my mom about this,” Yuuri says), watching those old stop-motion Christmas movies on TV. It’s the most festive Victor has felt all season, and he wishes there was a fire to curl up in front of. He even almost offers to make cocoa, except that they’ve both had a decent amount of cookies in the last few hours and he doesn’t know how to make cocoa that doesn’t come out of a box.

Yuuri probably does, though. Victor’s beginning to think that there’s very little Yuuri can’t do. He’ll be a force to be reckoned with, when he’s older. Victor can’t wait to see him take the world by storm.

_ The Year Without a Santa Claus _ is playing at low volume on the TV when the Katsukis get home from their Christmas party. Mr. Katsuki is immediately sniffing at the air, exclaiming happily that  _ Yuuri made cookies! _ and Mrs. Katsuki is chuckling to herself when she comes into the living room. Victor is  _ just _ awake, but Yuuri is asleep, curled up against him under the knitted couch throw—something that would surely mortify him if he was conscious.

“Looks like you boys were busy,” Mrs. Katsuki says with a smile.

“Oh yes,” Victor whispers, looking down at Yuuri fondly. He’s drooling a little bit. It’s adorable. “I didn’t know Yuuri was such a baker.”

Mrs. Katsuki nods, hand pressed to her cheek.

“I taught him and Mari, but I think he’s even better than me these days.” But she smiles in the pleased way that mothers do, and Victor mirrors it. “Did you have fun?”

“More fun than I thought you could have baking, to be honest. But… Yeah. It was a lot of fun.”

“Thank you,” she says out of nowhere, and Victor blinks at her in surprise. “For doing that with him. I told him he could wait until Mari gets home, but he really wanted to surprise her. I’m sure he would have been fine on his own, but…”

“No,” Victor says with a shake of his head. “Christmas cookies should be made together.” He runs his hand gently over Yuuri’s back, and then stifles a yawn with the back of his hand.

“You must be tired. Did you want to stay over? I’m sure your mother wouldn’t mind.”

She wouldn’t. Victor’s stayed over several times before, but he shakes his head.

“No, I have a math final I need to finish studying for.” It makes him feel a little guilty, thinking of the backpack he brought with him and hasn’t touched in six hours.

“Oh, if you had a test, we could have taken Yuuri to the Nishigoris.” Mrs. Katsuki’s face washes over with concern, and it’s easy to see where Yuuri gets it from. Victor could say that Yuuri is old enough to look after himself, that his own mother started leaving Victor home alone when he was ten, but just smiles instead.

“It’s fine. I like spending time with Yuuri.” He’ll have to stop by again before the holidays, in fact. Maybe he can try finding a pryaniki recipe to try. He’d love to share that with Yuuri, after Yuuri shared all this with him. And, if he’s lucky, whatever he makes will be edible.

“I’ll get him to bed,” Mrs. Katsuki says as Victor carefully eases himself away, trying his best not to wake Yuuri as he gently lies him down on the couch. It works, at first, Yuuri nuzzling his reddened cheek against the cushions, but then he’s suddenly opening his bleary eyes.

“‘Kaasan?” He mutters sleepily, and Victor wouldn’t be surprised if the cooing expression on Mrs. Katsuki’s face matches his own.

“Time for bed,” she says softly, and then Yuuri blinks his eyes slowly over to Victor.

“Victor?” Whenever Yuuri is sleepy, the way he says Victor’s name is different. It’s almost as if he forgets whether he should be speaking Japanese or English, and his vowels get fuller. On a few occasions, he’s even mumbled at Victor  _ in _ Japanese. If it wouldn’t embarrass Yuuri to the point where he probably would never speak to Victor again, he’d ask Yuuri what he said all those times. “Are you leaving?”

“Yes.” Victor presses his palm gently to Yuuri’s mild bedhead. “But I’ll come see you again before Christmas, okay?”

Yuuri’s blinking becomes more rapid, and then he’s standing up quickly, nearly tripping in the way his legs get tangled in the throw.

“Yuuri?” Victor and Mrs. Katsuki ask in tandem, their voices a mixture of surprise and concern, but then Yuuri is stumbling towards the kitchen.

“D-don’t leave yet!” He calls back towards them, nearly tripping again. Victor glances worriedly at where Yuuri’s glasses are folded on the coffee table.

“‘Tousan!” They hear Yuuri yell, and Mrs. Katsuki and Victor share a glance.

“He must be in the cookies,” she whispers, conspiratorially, and Victor nearly starts laughing. Carefully picking up Yuuri’s glasses, he follows Mrs. Katsuki slowly towards the kitchen, but Yuuri intercepts them in the hallway, a plastic baggy in his hand.

“M-merry Christmas, Victor,” he says in a rush, holding out the bag, and Victor stares in surprise as he takes it. It’s the cookies they baked, but there isn’t a single one Victor decorated in the bag. They’re all Yuuri’s, including the painstakingly decorated snowflake that Victor had watched him spend fifteen minutes on.

“Oh, Yuuri. But aren’t these for Mari?” Hadn’t that been the point.

“I… I have plenty for Mari, too.” Yuuri scuffs his socked foot against the floor and doesn’t meet Victor’s eyes. “But I want you to have some, too.”

Victor smiles, and pulls Yuuri close to hug him. He immediately goes stiff, but then loosely hugs Victor back.

“Merry Christmas, Yuuri.”

*

He doesn’t make it back to the Katsukis’ before Christmas, but he does pass his math final and he does  _ attempt _ to make pryaniki.

(It doesn’t turn out well, but it ends with him and his mama looking through photo albums and telling stories, so he doesn’t count it as a total loss).

He’ll have to go and see Yuuri and his parents as soon as the holiday calms down, though. The poodle cookie cutters that he found to give Yuuri are beautifully wrapped and ready to be given, a gift from both Victor  _ and _ Makkachin.

Christmas Day for him and his mama has always ended with a large party that he’s never enjoyed. They’ll celebrate his birthday the next day, and he has plans with Chris and everyone else for the 27th. But Victor learned years ago that Christmas would come first, and his birthday second, no matter how much his mama tried to assure him that it wasn’t the case.

Victor knows his birthday comes first to his mama, but he also knows how their family is. To them, family is more important, and Christmas is a family holiday. So Victor will dress nice and play the role of the perfect son, smiling for all his relatives and avoiding their invasive questioning.

At least the food will be good.

He’s just twisting his hair into a braid when the doorbell rings, and he frowns at himself thoughtfully in the mirror. They’ll be going to his aunt’s house for Christmas dinner this year, so it’s strange that anyone would be at their house. Maybe a gift for his mama? He wouldn’t be surprised. Hardly a holiday goes by without her getting some gift or another from an admirer.

Victor rolls his eyes.

“Vitya!” His mama calls up the staircase. “You have a visitor.”

His fingers pause, and he stares at the mirror again. A visitor? For  _ him _ ?

His braid is only halfway finished, and rather than rush through the end and have to redo it later (they’ll be  _ lots _ of pictures taken tonight), he pulls his fingers through his hair and simply undoes it. A little messy, but—well, he doesn’t even know who this visitor  _ is _ . There’s no reason for him to primp.

(He still does, a little, at the mirror in the upstairs hallway.)

Victor sees Mrs. Katsuki first, which draws him up short halfway down the stairs.

And then he sees Yuuri, bundled up in what is certainly a new winter coat with a brand new scarf wrapped snugly around him. The beanie is the only thing familiar about the whole outfit.

“Yuuri?” Victor can’t keep the surprise out of his voice as he finishes his descent, and Yuuri looks at him with a cold bitten nose. There’s a struggle of some sort between the emotions on his face, but finally he just tries to obscure all of it in his scarf.

“Merry Christmas, Victor,” Mrs. Katsuki says with her warm smile.

“Merry Christmas,” Victor returns, giving her a quick, pleasant smile in return before turning back to Yuuri. “I wasn’t expecting to see you guys today.” After all, it’s Christmas. A family holiday. Yuuri should be home with his parents. With Mari.

“Oh, well, Yuuri was quite insistent we come over today.” Sometimes Mrs. Katsuki smiles like she has a secret, and now is one of those times. “I hope we aren’t intruding.”

“Nonsense,” his mama says with a wave of her hand. “It’s always good to have company on Christmas. Would you or Yuuri like a cup of tea, Hiroko?”

“That sounds lovely, Yana.”

His mama leads Mrs. Katsuki towards the back of the house, where the kitchen and the tea kettle wait, but Yuuri stays there in the foyer. He’s holding a tupperware.

“More cookies?” Victor teases, although he’d finished the small bag Yuuri had initially given him within 24 hours. More cookies would actually be a wonderful gift.

“Um,” Yuuri finally says, shifting his weight, and then doesn’t meet his eyes as he holds out the container. “Happy birthday, Victor.”

Victor goes still, one hand already closed around the tupperware, and for once he’s thankful that Yuuri is hiding his face and that he can’t see the pure shock that’s taken hold of his entire body.

He didn’t come specifically today because it’s Christmas.

He came because it’s Victor’s birthday.

The pressure that Victor suddenly feels at the back of his eyes is surprising, and only grows worse once he looks inside the tupperware.

“Are these…?” His voice is shaking.

“I don’t know if they’ll taste like hers,” Yuuri says, voice soft. “You’re right, most of the recipes I found had lots of spices, but this one had honey instead, so I thought maybe it would be close.” Yuuri does look up then, eyes round with hope and fear all at the same time. “I wanted you to have your birthday cookies.”

Victor feels a few tears slip out of his eyes, and he brushes at them quickly.

“Are you okay? I know they might not be the ones your grandmama made, but they still taste okay,” Yuuri assures, his voice tumbling out, and Victor gives him a watery, happy smile.

“No, no, I’m fine… This is just…” Victor wants to hug the tupperware, and the boy standing in front of him, close to his chest. “Thank you, Yuuri. I couldn’t have asked for a better birthday present.”

Yuuri smiles—bright, relieved, and pleased.

“I got something for you, too.” Victor sets the cookies down very gently on the table in the foyer, and then takes Yuuri’s hand and drags him into the family room. There are only a handful of gifts left under their Christmas tree, most of them for the extended family they’ll be seeing in a few hours, but Victor plucks one of the ones set aside and hands it to Yuuri with a flourish.

“It’s so beautiful,” Yuuri says in awe, touching the tightly creased corners of the gift, and Victor preens.

“Well, I might not be good at baking, but I’m pretty handy with some wrapping paper.”

“I’m not,” Yuuri admits defeatedly, and glances back towards the foyer as if the unwrapped tupperware of cookies is enough proof.

“Well, I’ll make you a deal—you do the baking, and I’ll do the wrapping, okay?”

Yuuri doesn’t say anything, just hides his rosy cheeks and happy little smile in his scarf.

“Now, now, open it! The suspense is killing me!”

Yuuri laughs then, and carefully breaks the tap at the top of the package rather than ripping it open. Victor simply doesn’t know how he has the patience. Rather than pulling the paper apart, he shimmies the package out, and his mouth falls open.

“Poodles?!” He looks up at Victor, eyes bright with excitement.

“Poodles!” Victor confirms, crowding close to look at them again. “So we’ll have to make cookies again real soon, okay?”

Yuuri presses the gift close to his chest, and then looks up at Victor with shining eyes.

“They have special cookie recipes for dogs. We could make little Makkachins for Makkachin.”

Victor pulls Yuuri close to his side, beaming.

“Oh Yuuri. I knew there was a reason you were my favorite boy.”

“Victor,” Yuuri protests weakly, but he hides his face in Victor’s side instead of running halfway across the house, so Victor will take that as a win.  

**Author's Note:**

> [come ask me for the cookie recipes on tumblr c;](http://missmichellebelle.tumblr.com)


End file.
